


you feel it in your chest

by jedormis (dottie_wan_kenobi)



Series: Batfam Fics [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Batfamily Feels, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Child Neglect, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, POV Tim Drake, Past Child Abuse, Questioning, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Stream of Consciousness, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Young Tim Drake, and the effects of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/jedormis
Summary: Here in the Wayne Manor, nothing is like it is on TV, but it’s better. It’s way better. Those sitcom families have nothing on this. On not being alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Homecoming](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10966704) by [Ionaperidot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ionaperidot/pseuds/Ionaperidot). 



> I was looking at a list of ways to say "I love you" and saw "“Have a good day at work.”" and my mind immediately brought forth an image of young Tim, saying that to Bruce, finally in a situation with some stability.
> 
> Tim, in this story, has RAD, which means Reactive Attachment Disorder, though honestly it's not super developed. RAD is when a child was neglected during their formative years and didn't make the connections children often make with their parents/guardians. He has the Disinhibited type of RAD, the symptoms of which are "Indiscriminate sociability" and "Inappropriately familiar or selective in the choice of attachment figures" according to WebMD. 
> 
> Basically that means that, in the face of Alfred, Bruce, Dick, and Jason, who all care about him and _don't_ go on trips for months with limited contact, Tim feels very familiar and connected really fast. Now I'm am not an expert in mental health and maybe I read the symptoms wrong and this whole story is off. I don't know. This work is just meant for fun -- please don't take this as a be all end all of RAD.
> 
> Title comes from Bastille's Icarus!! From this part, which reminds me really of all the Batfam and Batkids,  
> "Living beyond your years  
> Acting out all their fears  
> You feel it in your chest"
> 
> Ages:  
> Alfred - 61  
> Bruce - 33  
> Dick - 18 ish  
> Jason - 15 ish  
> Tim - 12 ish

It’s  _ so nice _ being somewhere that he’s not alone. 

Like, seriously. SO nice. Waking up in the morning and hearing Alfred in the kitchen, or Bruce in his room, or Jason playing music on his stereo, really faint noises considering how big the Manor is, but he can still hear them. He can hear everything, every creak, every shift, every breath the house takes, and especially every movement his housemates make.

It’s not just nice, it’s  _ comforting _ , and he loves it so much.

Even just thinking about it, his chest fills up with warmth, a smile coming to his face unbidden. A giggle bursts out of him, and he reaches up to cover his eyes, more happy and giddy than he’s possibly ever been in his life. The fact that he’s laying in his (extremely comfortable) bed, under his (admittedly nerdy science-themed) sheets, staring at the posters on his walls (Stephen Hawking and Wonder Woman and Fall Out Boy), all of which had been bought by him and Bruce together, with Jason tagging along to make suggestions, only makes his smile bigger. 

Here in the Wayne Manor, nothing is like it is on TV, but it’s better. It’s  _ way  _ better. Those sitcom families have nothing on this.

Sometimes, he wakes himself up early just to go downstairs and watch Alfred make breakfast. Real breakfast, too, like pancakes with blueberries, and toast with homemade jam, and orange juice, rather than the Poptarts he ate every morning for years. And he’ll  _ talk  _ to Tim, about anything and everything, from the weather to the latest politics news to what kind of tea tastes the best to what happened in the comic book he was reading last night. You know what he talked about at breakfast, before he came to live at the Manor? Nothing. ‘Cause he was alone.

But he’s not anymore.

‘Cause Alfred is always there, and if he’s not, Tim can find him. Same for Jason, who’ll always talk to him at least a little bit, even if it’s just to say “leave me alone for a while.” Same for Bruce, most days, except when he goes to work, of course.

The weird thing is, Bruce always comes back home from work. Actually, he seems  _ relieved  _ to come home. Every day, Tim waits by the door and opens it when he sees his car like a little kid waiting for their daddy to come home, even though he’s twelve and smarter than a lot of people he knows. He sees the way Bruce’s shoulders drop into a more relaxed position, the barest hint of a smile twitching the corners of his lips up, the warmth in his voice when he says, “Hello, Tim.”

Hello, Tim. God, they’re his two favorite words,  _ ever _ . Hello, Tim. Hello. Tim.

If Tim had to pick a favorite time of day, without question it’s when Bruce comes home from work. He loves making cookies with Alfred, and doing homework in the dining room with Jason, and when Dick calls every night just to talk and see how he’s doing. It all fills him with that hot, teary happiness. But none of it quite compares to  _ hello, Tim _ . A smile just for him. Undivided attention from an adult he trusts and heck,  _ loves _ , ‘cause he  _ does  _ love Bruce, and Alfred and Jason and Dick, even if maybe he shouldn’t. He hasn’t been here that long. Shouldn’t he, like,  _ wait  _ to love them?

But they’re so nice. So loving. They look at him when he talks, and listen to him, and feed him and hug him and boast about him (the one time he met Wally West, he’d said he’d only heard good things about Tim, and then Tim smiled so wide it  _ hurt _ ), and he’s never alone except when he wants to be.

With a delighted little sigh, he looks at the cool Thor clock hanging by the door, and jumps up when he realizes how little time he’ll have this morning before Bruce has to leave. He doesn’t bother getting properly dressed, though Alfred will probably scold him. His plain pajamas are good enough for breakfast without guests, anyway.

He skids down the stairs, almost tripping and falling on his face as he comes barrelling into the kitchen. Bruce’s briefcase is flat on the floor, and his toes sting from the direct hit. Jason is sitting closest to the door, and he laughs when he sees Tim, which isn’t exactly nice but it makes Tim so happy he doesn’t even care.

“Bruce!” He says, embarrassingly loud. Dick blinks owlishly at him, dark circles under his eyes, while Alfred tilts his head with distaste, probably. (He doesn’t like it when Tim is loud, but other than being scolded, he’s never been punished for it.)

Bruce, though, he just smiles that not-smile and says, “Timmy.”

He hates being called Timmy, since it’s usually the bullies calling him that, but from the mouth of Bruce he doesn’t mind at all. Another smile comes, and he doesn’t stop it. The man nods, looks back down to his food, and the others follow his lead in taking the spotlight off. This is just a normal morning. Yes, normal, he can deal with normal. He  _ loves  _ normal.

Taking his seat, next to Jason and across from Bruce, he tries to remember the manners and decorum and lessons. Sit straight, Timothy. Elbows off the table, Timothy. Be genial but mild, Timothy. Don’t show too much excitement, Timothy. On some level, he knows he doesn’t have to follow it, but it’s routine and it’s something he knows and it makes Alfred happy. He’d do anything to make Alfred happy.

But then Jason says, “So I started reading the very first Winter Soldier comic last night,” and Tim couldn’t care less about the stupid rules.

They spend the rest of breakfast talking about Bucky Barnes and how cool he is and how sad his story is and also how Jason could totally, definitely take him. Dick laughs so hard when he says that, milk comes out of his nose, and then Tim laughs so hard he almost chokes on his breakfast scone. Jason glares and smiles and complains, “Oh, shuddup, I really could!”

“Please! Jay, if you two fought, he’d shove his metal arm so far up your -- “

“Master Richard!”

Somewhat chastised, he amends, “I mean, so far  _ down  _ your throat, you’d be -- “

“Dick! Seriously?” Bruce’s eyes rather obviously slide to Tim before returning to his oldest son. “You know better.”

He shrugs unrepentantly. “You guys won’t let me finish, so you don’t even know what I’m about to say and if Timmy should hear it or not.”

Jason, enjoying this if his bright grin is anything to go by, shakes his head and tsks. “Dickiebird, considering the He-Man incident, you should understand why we’re all worried.”

“The He-Man incident?” Tim asks, leaning forward and preening under the laughs it earns him from Jason. Even Bruce can’t help a puff of amusement. 

“We  _ agreed  _ never to talk about that again, Jason!”

“Then stop acting like I can’t fight and win against the Winter Soldier!”

“You can’t! He’s a Russian assassin who trained alongside Captain America  _ and  _ the Black Widow! Your chances of winning against him would be zero unless you somehow as badass as them, which you aren’t -- “

“Master Richard,” Alfred says, holding out the swear jar. Dick sighs, but puts a dollar in. It’s so domestic that Tim feels that warmth again. He’s never had to deal with having a swear jar, mostly ‘cause there was never anyone around with the authority to call him on it. Not that he cusses. He knows he’s too young.

“I totally could,” Jason grumbles, finishing his orange juice and standing, his way of signalling the end of the conversation. “May I be excused?”

Bruce nods, checking his watch. “I need to get going now. Remember, the Policeman’s Ball is tonight, and we’re expected to be there. Dick, you don’t have to come, but Jason and Tim, you should be ready to go by the time I get home.” Jason opens his mouth, but Bruce continues, “Yes, Jason, you have to wear a suit.”

“Ugh, why? Everyone knows I’m  _ street trash _ anyway, so what’s the point?”

Bruce stands abruptly. Tim flinches back a little, surprised by the movement. He pays him no attention though, and moves to Jason’s side, where he’s still standing by the table. A large hand goes to rest on Jason’s tense shoulder, and then, in the same tone as  _ Hello, Tim _ , Bruce says, “You are  _ not  _ street trash, Jason. The people who call you that are cruel and egotistical, and more to the point, they’re  _ wrong _ .”

Jason swallows, eyes sliding from Bruce to Dick to Tim. Dick looks away immediately, clearing off his plate, while Tim just… keeps looking. Not even Jason’s scowl is enough to make him stop.

(Tim knows about good dads. He does. He’s always had access to TV, and he’s seen the Danny Tanner, Carl Winslow, Uncle Phil types. But he’s never seen it in real life, and anyway, he thought that was  _ his tone _ . But then, he has heard Alfred use it with Bruce, so maybe it’s not. Is it a dad thing? Is Bruce his dad? Does he even want that? His parents are still alive, his dad is out there somewhere, but Bruce is using a dad tone on him. And Jason. Jason, who, like Tim, isn’t really a Wayne and lives here because Bruce is a nice man.

But is he Tim’s, and Jason’s and Dick’s,  _ dad _ ? And does he, and Jason and Dick, want that? Does  _ Bruce  _ want that?

His head starts to hurt. There’s too many things to think about. Too many things to focus on.)

To Bruce, Jason says, voice hard and angry and sad and pleading, “Are they, though?”

“Yes, they are.” He has a way of sounding like he knows the absolute truth. The sky is blue, grass is green, and the elites of Gotham’s High Society are wrong about Jason Todd. 

“Hmm.” Then he goes off to the kitchen with his empty plate. He’s always doing chores around the house, chores Tim’s glad to not to have to do anymore.

“One of these days,” Dick says quietly, “He’ll actually believe it.”

For a long moment, they’re all silent. Tim doesn’t really understand why. Then he says, “I hope so. Now, do either of you need anything before I go?” He grabs his briefcase off the floor as he says it, checking his watch again.

“Can you tell your secretary I’m a monk or something? Luke told me she keeps bothering him about me like, and I quote, ‘it’s his job to pass  _ do you like me yes or no _ notes around instead of all the shhh-tuff --  _ stuff  _ \-- his dad makes him do’.”

“I’ll try, but I make no promises.”

“Dang.”

Bruce just smirks at him. Then, “And you, Timmy?”

He almost wants to ask for like, a hug or something. Which is silly and childish and stupid. Also, Bruce doesn’t give hugs. At least, not to Tim, he doesn’t. So he just says, “No, thank you. Have a good day at work, Bruce.”

He steps back to the table and lays a hand briefly on Tim’s back, murmuring, “Thank you.” Then, with no fanfare, he walks purposefully out of the kitchen. Tim’s heart and stomach contract, and he has to remind himself,  _ Hello, Tim. Hello, Tim. Hello, Tim. _ He’s coming back. It’s a normal day. It’s fine.

It’s totally fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Luke being Luke Fox, son of Lucius Fox, who of course basically runs WE/works alongside Bruce)
> 
> I wrote more of this, where Dick and Jason talk to Tim about what he's thinking and feeling, but I decided not to post it with this because I'm pretty unsure of it. What do you guys think? Would you be interested in reading more?
> 
> Let me know! Thank you for reading!! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the nice comments!!! I was blown away by getting 11 comments on a short one-shot (now a three-shot, you'll notice). And you were all so sweet aghhhh I almost cried lol. I'm sorry I didn't respond, but I read and cherished each one <3
> 
> Anyway this takes place immediately after last chapter and has a small mention of the child abuse Jason and Tim faced. It's not as emo as the last chapter but I imagine the next one will make up for that ;)
> 
> Betad by my lovely friend Rachel who isn't even in the fandom <333

Once Bruce is gone (and he has to remind himself the man will be back tonight, he even said so, and Bruce doesn't go back on his word), Tim finishes his breakfast quickly. He feels weird about being in the room now, which is stupid and makes no sense. It's not like he's alone. Dick is still there, and Jason and Alfred’s voices are carrying over from the kitchen. 

Still it makes his stomach twist weirdly and he wants  _ out _ . 

“Timmy,” Dick says, soft. His eyes are intent on him, concerned, narrowed a little like he’s thinking. Everyone here looks at him like that. He would be annoyed if it didn't make him happy just to not be alone. Though right now, instead of making him happy or irritated, it soothes him.

Reminds him that everyone here cares about him enough to be concerned.

“Yeah, Dick?”

“You got something on your mind?”

Well, yeah. But he always does. There’s always something to think about. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He leans forward a little, forearms crossed on the table. His smile is small and friendly, inviting him to spill his heart out.

“Didn’t you say you’d play Kingdom Hearts with Jason?”

“Yeah and I will. But if you wanna talk first, he won’t mind waiting a few minutes.” Which doesn't sound like Jason, really, since he can pretty impatient, but Tim knows this is one of those times adults tell little lies and it's okay.

“I — I just,” Tim stutters, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t possibly talk to Dick or Jason or even Alfred, and especially not Bruce about  _ anything _ . He’s never had to before. He’s always been fine, not talking about things. He should be fine now, too, right? 

But he’s good at watching things and quietly noticing the behavior of the others, and he’s noticed that both of the older boys talk to people when they’re upset, wondering, happy or mad. They talk to each other or Bruce and Alfred, sometimes  their other friends. Dick is Tim’s friend right? Maybe even his brother. So he should talk. Right?

Dick stands, comes around the table to sit next to him, giving him comfortable distance. For some reason, they all give him space when talking seriously with him. “What’s up, kid?”

“Just — Bruce says hello, Tim.” 

When he doesn’t go on, Dick prompts, “Yeah?”

“In that tone, you know,” and he tries to say  _ hello, Tim _ the same way Bruce does. He can’t quite do it. 

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Right….”

“And he just used that tone on Jason.”

“He did.”

He tries again, this time  _ you’re  _ not  _ street trash, Jason _ . Still, it’s not the same. “And I was just thinking, what does it mean? Has he ever—I mean, have you ever heard it before?”

Tim doesn’t know what he wants to hear. If yes or no would be better. Either way, Dick says, “Yeah, I have.” He taps his fingers against his leg briefly. “What are you thinking it means?”

Tim shrugs. He doesn’t really want to say it, ‘cause what if he’s wrong? What if he’s all off? Will it make things weird? Will he have to leave? He’d rather not know than be forced to leave.

Dick smiles at him, gentle and kind, everything that emulates a brother, saying, “C’mon, Timmy, it’ll be fine, whatever it is. We’ll work it out.”

“I guess…. Well, if he talks to Jason like that, and me, and you, there has to be a connection right? Something that’s similar about all of us, other than the whole dark hair and blue eyes thing. I don’t think it’s that we all like comics, or that we all love Alfred, or that we’re all smart…so what does that leave?” While he says it, he counts off on his fingers.

“You forgot that we all love orange juice.”

Tim giggles, Dick’s comments calming his uneasiness for a moment. “Oh, yeah! We do, but I don’t think that’s it either.” He does think he’s stalling, though, and that maybe Dick can tell. “I think…. I think it’s that we’re all kids in his care. And I know, I  _ know _ , we all have parents, whether they’re alive or not, but he’s sorta like our dad, right?”

Dick doesn’t say anything. Tim can’t bare to look at his face and try to decipher whatever it is he could be thinking.

“Maybe not, I don’t know, but I’ve heard Alfred talk to Bruce that way, too, and Bruce was raised by Alfred, so maybe he’s like Bruce’s dad too? I mean— “

“Timmy, you know Bruce adopted you, right?” Dick looks at Tim with a tilt of his head, eyebrows furrowing in question.

That stops him short, ‘cause, “Of course I do. I’m not some stupid kid.”

“And you know he adopted me and Jason too, right? And that he was adopted by Alfred when he was a kid?”

Tim stares at him. “Duh.”

“And obviously, we all had parents before we were adopted,” Dick explains slowly.

“Right.”

“Well, Bruce is… he thinks that because we had those parents, he shouldn’t replace them. But he also knows that someone has to take care of us, so he and Alfred do it. Just not under the title of dad. Does that make sense?”

Tim thinks on it for a moment, leaning his cheek on his palm. “Yeah, I guess. But… what if one of us wanted him to be our dad?”

“I’m not really sure.” He shrugs, looking sort of uncomfortable by the way his face pinches. “None of us have ever asked or even talked about this before. But I’m sure if you did, he wouldn’t mind.”

“Why would you want to, Timmy?” A voice asks from the doorway, as Jason suddenly comes into the room just to lean against the wall. His arms are crossed, and he looks angry, though his voice doesn’t reflect  it. “Why would either of us want another dad after the shitty ones we were already given?”

Unsure of what to say, he fidgets in his seat, eyes jumping from Jason to Dick and back, and he blurts, “He pays attention to me.”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t beat me. But that’s some low standards.” Jason’s arms tighten, less like they’re crossed and more like he’s holding himself. All the same, his eyes harden, and he looks  _ so much _ like Bruce.

“But… he says  _ hello, Tim _ .” Even to his own ears, he sounds young and silly, desperation bleeding through his words. He just needs someone to  _ understand _ .

Jason and Dick look at each other for a long, long moment. Then Jason sighs, his whole body slumping, and he says, “Yeah, yeah he does. You should ask him what he thinks about this, kid.”

“Maybe after the Policeman’s Ball tonight, though, okay? I can go with you guys, if you want.”

_ Yes, please _ , he thinks, 'cause the adults will leave him alone if he's got one of them at his side. He doesn't say that, though. “Well, if we’re gonna talk to him, you  _ have  _ to come, Dick.”

“We?” Jason bursts out. “I’m not—“

“But he said you’re not street trash, Jason!” Tim counters, way too loudly, but he just doesn’t care. Jason should know by now that his background has no bearing on who he really is. Why doesn’t he get it? “That means he cares about us the same way! We both have to talk to him.”

Jason gives him the stink eye, which Tim has calledthe “pirate eye” ever since Alfred said Jason was  _ mutinous _ , last time he gave it to Bruce. It makes him giggle to think about. “But I'm not the one who's trying to—”

“Jay,” Dick says slowly, like he's about to make him mad and is definitely going to enjoy it. “Don't act like you don't call him dad behind his back all the time.”

Jason glares and blushes and blinks rapidly. Tim has noticed he does it every time he feels embarrassed. “I  _ don't. _ ”

“You totally do.”

“No I don't, Dickhead.” He clenches his jaw, eyes spitting fire.

“Language. And you absolutely do, Jaybird.”

“You’re gonna call me out for my language? Please! You're  a million times worse than I am! And anyway, _no_ , I—”

Standing, Dick raises his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it's okay, I do it too. Whatever he is, whatever you want him to be, it's close enough to our dad that no one could blame us. And if Timmy gets his way, he  _ will _ be.”

Previous tension leaving him all at once, Jason teases, “Tim always gets his way.”

“Perks of being the baby,” Dick agrees.

Tim’s face melts into a pout and has to cut in there, 'cause, “I'm not a baby!”

“ _ The _ baby, dingus, not  _ a _ baby. But you're so small, I think both fit,” Jason teases with a shit eating grin before suddenly tearing off, Tim hot on his heels, screeching a war cry. Dick follows at a more leisurely pace, but Tim pays him no mind. 

As they run down the halls, Tim catching up enough to jump on Jason and send them both tumbling to the floor, all three of them are too out of breath from laughing to care that they’re breaking the no fighting rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part will have them talking to Bruce after the Policeman's Ball!! I haven't written it yet or even really planned what's going to happen so it might take a little while to come out. Sorry about that! Rest assured it'll go well somehow, 'cause I don't have the heart to hurt poor Timmy anymore than I already have.
> 
> Lemme know what you thought? <3


End file.
